Turning Tables
by Girl Aloud
Summary: "To reverse the positions of adversaries. The phrase is often used when the weaker position subsequently becomes dominant." After 4 years Bella Swan is back in Forks, but everything has changed - especially Edward Cullen. AH, AU, Future Lemon warning.


**Disclaimer:** All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners.

**Turning Tables**

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[ - - - - ]

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Chapter One

Cold Shoulder

You grace me with your cold shoulder

Whenever you look at me I wish I was her

_Adele_

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[ - - - - ]

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August 28th, 2010

I push my passport across the desk and drop my luggage onto the belt. It lands with a loud thump, the case practically bursting at the seams. I swear I can hear my credit card shout 'retreat, retreat,' as I avoid looking at the weight on the small screen in front of me.

So I over-packed just a _little_. But can you really blame me? I'm about to catch a plane, completely last minute and unprepared, back to the place I've successfully avoided for four years. How can a girl prepare a travel wardrobe for that?

"One return ticket to Seattle please." My voice sounds hoarse and breathy. But not even in a sexy, come hither kind of way. I can feel the beads of sweat gathering on my forehead and the burn of my cheeks, traitorously displaying my lack of fitness.

All in all, it is _not_ an attractive look, but I figuratively pat myself on the back for getting to JFK Airport in the nick of time, even if I am about to keel over and die.

The blonde airline employee barely glances up from examining her nails before waving vaguely, one handed at the screen behind her. "I'm sorry, check in has now closed."

The new red sign flashes mockingly at me. Taunting and teasing, until I'm leaning over the desk to find the remote to turn it off. So I ran all this way for no reason?

"But it was still open when I reached the desk?" I begin to argue, because the screen was definitely blue. But she cuts me off with an exaggerated huff, which sprays spit onto my already clammy face.

"It's Protocol." She spits again, but I can see that her eyes are just daring me to argue. And I do. Because I can't help myself and did I mention I'm covered in annoying airline employee spit?

"The sign barely changed its status two seconds ago." I point, like it will make my argument any more receptive. "Surely you can understand the traffic out there is a nightmare? And besides, I _was _here on time...you just didn't notice."

I try to sound assertive, potentially even angry. But that well-mannered young lady inside of me just happens to rear her courteous head and I end up sounding polite. And pathetically wishy-washy. It's hardly surprising that she just smirks at me, shaking her too-big-for-her-body head. _Oh fuck it. _I try begging instead.

"I need to get to Seattle today, please. My best friend is getting married tomorrow, can't you just overlook _protocol_ this once?" I push my passport across the desk towards her in emphasis, praying that I'm appealing to her inner best friend. But she doesn't pick it up. I try and convince myself that maybe she can't sympathize with me because she hasn't actually got any friends?

She rolls her vivid blue eyes at me and mock whispers to herself - but I hear everything. Every last word. "Some best friend you must be, if you haven't even booked your ticket yet."

Her face is smug and testing. Just waiting for a reaction. And my fingers itch to Rock Bottom her. Right here. Right now, in the middle of this bustling airport.

"I'm not in the habit of making exceptions. There's really nothing I can do." It doesn't escape my notice that she avoids apologizing. What happened to the 'customer is always right' policy? I glare at her when she ushers me away from her desk with her fingers.

Is it really my fault that I snap?

I can't really help it. I'm feeling emotional, erratic and I'm just completely over dealing with this stupid, arrogant airline employee.

Who is she to judge me?

She doesn't know a thing about _any _of this.

Today has been potentially the worst day of my career. And though I should probably just be at home, spending the night munching away through a pint of Ben and Jerry's Cookie Dough ice cream and feeling sorry for my skinny ass. I'm trying to make amends and do the right thing. Do what I should have done in the first place.

Even if it means I'm swapping one extravagant wedding for another.

If anything, I wish elopement would come back into fashion. A little bit of Vegas never hurt anyone, _right?_

Okay maybe Jason Alexander? But one could argue that marrying Britney – even for just forty-eight hours – definitely scores some Man Points?

If only Alice Cullen was the shotgun wedding type…

I glance behind me to ensure the queue is still empty before fixing my feet firmly to the ground.

"I had work commitments," I spit, because I did. Contracted work commitments in fact, which very nearly killed me.

"I'm sure you did Miss…"

"Swan." I finish, trying my hardest to ignore her accusatory tone. "But I can only make a reservation for you on the next flight leaving at 9am tomorrow morning."

"But it will be too late," I argue. It's pointless, I know - but I need to do _something._

She shrugs her shoulders, before turning to examine her shitty excuse for a manicure again. I feel sick and embarrassingly dismissed. But nobody puts Bella in the corner.

I lean forward and hoist my handbag onto my shoulder, before slamming my fist down onto the desk in front of her.

_Shit. Oh hell that hurts!_

I try to mask my cringe as shooting pains fire up my arm, aching and stabbing until I feel a little lightheaded and nauseous.

_Air-bitch_ employee smirks at me and I grit my teeth and try to shake it off. It looks like releasing my inner Rock-ess is out of the question now, but she's smirking at me. Still.

"I need to get on that flight today lady. Do what you need to do. Call your supervisor, your manager. Phone Richard fucking Branson for all I care. Just. Get. Me. On. That. Flight. To-day."

I figure she'll understand better if I speak in pauses and strategically positioned spit bombs.

Now in my experience of Airline, I expect her to begin speaking in that not-quite-a-shout-but-definitely-not-a-whisper-tone. Or even press that hidden red button under her desk, to alert airport security that there's crazy bitch about to go medieval on her ass. But what I don't expect her to do is stare at me, or rather my bag, in amazement.

"Is that the Lieber Dandelion Suede Gator Handbag?" She squeaks, her voice void of any hostility. In fact it's all dreamy, wistful and annoyingly Alice-like. I'm stunned. And surprisingly spit free for the first time through this whole ordeal.

What the hell?

"…with 18 carat gold chains? I read that only four have ever been made. How did_ you _get one?"

My mouth opens and then closes involuntarily. I have no idea what she is saying. It's like I'm having a moment of temporary hearing loss, which only normally happens around Alice. I think she's saying something about a bag and a carrot maybe?

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, you're telling me that you can afford that handbag," she points to where it is now slack on my shoulder, "but you choose to wear holey sweat pants and a hoodie? Out in public? Where people have to look at you?..."

Her bold blue eyes stare at me intently and then her head cocks to the side. Staring. Considering. Before I can protest, she whips up my passport.

"You're Isabella Swan," she accuses, arching her perfectly plucked eyebrow at me and I nod my head back in confirmation – having no idea where she is going with this.

But what else can I really do?

I'm probably on some security camera somewhere being monitored. Two wrong hand gestures away from being strip searched by a butch women, intent on finding exactly what I'm 'smuggling' beneath my sweats and hoodie.

She sweeps her blonde hair behind her shoulder and leans forward, perching her chin on top of her fingers, with what I think is a genuine smile on her face.

"I can't believe it," she gushes and I can tell she is gazing at me with a newfound judgment. Like I'm some kind of Hotel heiress.

I stare back in confusion.

Well that is until she pulls the magazine out from under her desk and slams it down in front of me._ Oh_.

My mouth opens wide in understanding and I slowly itch my hand forward to pick up my passport – hoping she is too involved with frantically searching through it to realize I'm trying to leave. Flight be damned.

But just as my hand encloses around it, she looks up and pushes the magazine towards me. She uses the distraction to grab my passport again and tucks it into her blouse pocket where it rests on her perky D cup boob.

_We have a hostage situation!_

Though I don't need too, I take a brief look at what she is pointing at and then I look away again. It's hardly surprising that the media is going crazy over the news.

I hope my obvious lack of interest will curb her eager appetite, but apparently it doesn't because when I finally look back at her, she is still staring at me, waiting for me to say something – most likely comment about the article – but I don't.

Instead I retrieve my phone from my _almost _one of a kind handbag and pull an exaggerated sigh.

"Well it was nice meeting you, but I need to try and find another way of getting to Seattle. So if I could just have my passport back?" My fingers are inches away from her fake boob before she finally hands it over.

I smile grudgingly before picking up my suitcase and hoisting it away. But I've barely taken a dozen steps when I hear her call. High and nasally and unbelievably grating.

"Miss Swan, wait!"

I turn back towards the desk. "Hmm?" I reply, trying to sound nonchalant, but my stomach drops as she beckons me back to the desk with one of her manicured fingers. I know she's going to ask about the news article. For some insider information, which she can add to the shit storm going down on Twitter.

"I have one seat left, leaving on the flight from New York to Seattle today. Fortunately there has been a delay, so I think we might be able to get you there after all." She smiles smugly.

I have to admit, this 'fame' thing does have its benefits after all.

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[ - - - - ]

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When I arrive in Seattle, it's late and rather than turn up and face Charlie; I decide to book into a hotel for the night. I tell myself its because I'm tired. And I am, incredibly so. But the advantage of my strategically placed hotel means I can see the airport lights from one of my suite windows and it reminds me that I can still change my mind. Still go back to the safety of NYC.

The rain pounds my windows all night, so it's hardly surprising I have a restless sleep, tossing and turning and dreaming of green eyes and bronzed hair. I wonder if it's a subconscious thing - because I'm in closer proximity to _him_, but then I have to laugh. Who am I kidding?

I dream about _him _most nights.

In the morning, after I shower and change into a clean pair of sweats, I make my way down towards the hotel reception. The young man sat behind it, trying to inconspicuously check his Facebook on his cellphone, eyes me warily as I approach him. That is until I pull out my credit card.

"I want a rental car," I tell him and he nods, before throwing a hundred leaflets in front of me. Audi's, Mercedes and Porches glare up at me, practically shouting 'pick me, pick me,' until I'm feeling agitated and completely out of my depth. It doesn't help that the young man is overly keen, almost persuading me to rent a flashy little BWM M3 Coupe, but I change my mind last minute when I see a leaflet hiding at the bottom of the pack. Just waiting to be picked, like the teenage me back in gym class. And its perfect. I place it on top of the pile.

"I want this car."

He looks dubious and almost hurt? "Are you sure?" '_Of all the cars?'_ I imagine he's saying.

"Yes," I smile sweetly and for good measure, just to show that in fact _I am _being serious, I push my credit card towards him.

The car arrives and I breathe a sigh of relief that it's not silver. It's black, sleek and totally awesome to drive. Speedy, comfortable and it even has a little thing I can plug my Ipod into. And there was me thinking people bought Swedish cars simply because they had 'Swedish girl' fantasies.

Perhaps he was the only one after all.

As I speed closer to Forks, the weather grows darker and the clouds seem to close in. I feel claustrophobic and anxious and a part of me is still questioning my decision to come back. After all it's been a long time since I've been in this small dead end town.

Four long, tear-filled and life changing years to be precise – and though I try and tell myself things have changed; that _people_ change. I'm starting to wish that I never used my Lieber handbag as my carry on.

Finally I navigate the car off the highway and my heart pounds as I realize I have to drive past the Cullen's family home in order to get to Charlie's, which is closer to town.

The Cullen house is set back from the road, covered by sweeping manicured gardens. But I still glance to my left to try and see a glimpse of it through the trees. I can't help it. It's an automatic reaction.

I imagine that there's a flurry of activity going on in there today, everybody rushing, Alice panicking and I feel sick because I should be in there too. Helping her into her wedding dress, sneaking her secret vodka shots and dabbing away her tears. Holding her tightly and whispering in her ear, telling her how proud I am of her.

But I'm not and there's nobody that I can blame but myself.

I press my foot back onto the pedal and continue on into town until I arrive at the small house I used to call home.

The house is dark and empty and as soon as I park outside; I notice the Police cruiser is missing. Charlie's probably sneaking a few cheeky whiskeys with Carlisle before the ceremony. It doesn't escape my notice that if things were different; maybe they would be doing that under completely different circumstances.

I take a deep breath and step into the old house, pulling my suitcase and handbag straight upstairs, one handed, into my old bedroom. I shake my good wrist out, as I look around the tiny room. I'm feeling slightly nostalgic.

And it's oddly comforting because nothing has changed. Not even the bedspread, or the posters up on the wall. The room is the only constant in years full of change and I wonder if I will be able to say the same about everyone else.

I get ready quickly and then brush away the thick layer of dust that has settled on the mirror. I'm wearing a cream and black one shouldered dress recycled from another event, so I know it's wedding appropriate. And its not like I'll be featured in OK Magazine as an outfit repeater.

A car horn sounds outside and I stand up and sway slightly. _It's the Louboutins_, I tell myself, but I refrain from downing the last dregs from the wine glass perched on my dressing table. I've seen enough drunk wedding guests to realize that it's probably not the way forward today.

I take a deep breath and steadily make my way downstairs to the taxi, realizing that this is it.

I'm going to the church, I'm going to watch Alice marry Jasper Whitlock and I'm going to see Edward Cullen.

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[ - - - - ]

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When I arrive, the churchyard is empty and though I know I organized the wedding at the only church in Forks, so logically it must be here. I still pull the invitation out of my purse to check. It says the ceremony doesn't start for another fifteen minutes, but the lack of people _anywhere _is disturbing.

And there's no way I'm going into the ceremony late.

When I'm seconds away from just calling the taxi back to take me straight back home to my half full bottle of wine; a car pulls up the dusty road. Clouds of mud spray everywhere and I step back in horror.

Finally it stops abruptly in front of the church gates and I watch curiously as a tall blonde haired man, whom I've never seen before, jumps out. He's handsome but rugged, well built and as my eyes scan over his suit I realize that he's one of the groomsman.

A fricking_ late _groomsman! Jasper is going to have his balls.

He turns back towards the open car door and thrusts a few notes at the driver, before slamming it shut.

"You here for the wedding?" I stupidly ask, momentarily stunned by his beauty.

_What a great observation, Bella._

He turns around, his bright blue eyes regarding me curiously. He does a double take of my body, his eyes resting on my boobs for a few seconds too long. I cough loudly.

He smiles cheekily when I call him out on his perving. And _Oh gosh_. It's a perfect all white, contagious smile; one you would expect from a movie star on the cover of GQ magazine. He's gorgeous and I find myself fanning my face. I feel like I'm in heat, my girly bits tingling away until I'm almost rubbing my thighs together. I forget all about searching for a taxi number and smile shyly back.

"Am I here for the wedding?" He repeats, barely containing his amusement. "Nope, I choose to dress like this daily and hang around creepy church yards. I hear it's the perfect way to pick up a beautiful lady. Riley Biers," he adds, holding his hand out towards me.

"Bella Swan," I reply as he appraises me. I hold out my hand too, making sure not to offer my injured one. His hand is warm, soft and I can't help but notice his fingers are long…and thick. Maybe his hand has healing powers after all.

"At least I'm not the only one late," he adds, sounding relieved and completely oblivious to the fact that I'm still holding onto his hand. Before I can drop it, he locks his fingers with mine and tugs me forward towards the cobbled path, which leads towards the church. But I'm frozen in place.

When I don't move, he stops to stare back at me in confusion, his eyes dropping down to where our hands are still joined. Tightly, practically grinding down and having naughty palm sex with each other. Slowly he cocks his head in the direction of the road.

"Alice is about four minutes behind us, we overtook the wedding car on the way. Hell is gonna break out if we're out here when she arrives…so you coming?"

He tugs again gently with his arm – his perfectly sculpted arm and my stomach drops. I wobble unsteadily as his grip tightens, but I still don't move.

"Come on…it won't be that bad."

I laugh awkwardly and finally stumble forward, my voice suddenly lost somewhere deep inside me.

The walk up to the church is slow, stomach churning and I can feel my palm growing wet and sweaty. If he notices, he doesn't say anything but I can feel him glancing down at me often. Though to be fair, he could be spying down my dress to see my cleavage too.

I can hear him chatting away about why he is late, trying to make conversation like a normal person would do in this situation, but I'm too nervous to even listen to anything he is saying.

I nod my head in what I hope is the right places and try to focus my attention on not tripping, or vomiting, or from pulling some self defense moves involving Riley and his junk, so I can leg it while I can and hide behind a bush for a few hours.

Finally we come to a stop and I can hear the steady murmurs of conversation coming through the doors in front of me.

"Ready?" He smiles, obviously noticing my reluctance but doing everything in his power to get me through the doors and into the church.

"Err…actually Riley," I begin but he is already opening the doors. When I don't move forward, his hand falls to the small of my back and he pushes me gently through. I try to focus on his hand…touching my back, all sexy and firm, but my mind is lost elsewhere.

The church is beautiful – just as we had planned. Lit up and sparkling with candles that cast a magical ambiance to the grand building. A running cream carpet leads the way to the alter which is decorated with a beautiful full white floral arrangement. It's elegant – very Alice – and unsurprisingly every pew is brimming with people.

Though our entrance goes unnoticed by the people sat nearer to the front and thankfully the wedding party, I can't ignore the faces that have turned to stare at us. I gently push Riley into the limelight and hide behind his bulking frame, using the opportunity to ogle his pert little ass. Thankfully he seems like the type of person that enjoys being the centre of attention and when I've ass-gazed for long enough, I use the rest of the time to look around the church from my semi-hidden position.

I spot Jasper pacing nervously at the alter and I focus solely on him. Dressed in the same suit as Riley, he looks handsome and every bit as nervous as he appears. I watch as he moves from side to side, his fingers deep in his trouser pocket, muttering softly to himself. I can feel myself begin to smile.

A booming laughter echoes through the church and my stomach flutters as I turn my attention to the left side of the alter where I can see Emmett talking to someone. Someone tall, broad and bronzed… _Edward._ My breathing hitches and I try my hardest not to focus on him but it's so difficult when he's standing _right there_.

I can't believe it.

It's actually him.

Though I can only see the back of his head, his hair is still a wild-bronzed disarray and my fingers flex out towards him. I want to touch him. Feel him. Taste him.

As I stare at the dark figure, talking animatedly to Emmett, I barely register that my shield is moving. Riley takes another step forward away from me and I suddenly panic and grab onto the back of his suit.

He turns around in confusion.

"You okay?"

I nod weakly at him, but I can tell he doesn't buy it. I'm shaking, sweating and I feel pale and clammy.

"Take a seat Bella," he whispers, looking at me with an odd glint in his eye. Concern maybe?

He points to either side of the church because of course he doesn't know which party I'm here with and I nod vaguely back because technically I'm here for both Alice and Jasper.

Not that either of them even know…

"Thank you." I reply, but my voice sounds odd. Shaky and high and no way near as calm and collected as I had planned for.

_I knew I couldn't do this._

Riley brushes his hand over my shoulder, gently squeezing in support before turning back around and jogging forward down the aisle. Finally Jasper's head snaps up at the movement and his eyes narrow at his friend, who shrugs in apology and takes his place to the right of the alter.

Since I'm now stood in the middle of the doorway looking like a lost idiot, I take a step further into the church to try and find Charlie. My heels click along the floor and as I pass each pew, I can hear the steady conversations begin to trail off and hushed whispers take their place as people spot me.

Jasper must notice the change in atmosphere too because suddenly his eyes find me. He looks hesitant and dubious and I freeze on the spot, my hands dropping limply to my side. He's shocked, I think. But his eyes are dark and unreadable and I begin to doubt my decision to even come.

Why didn't I consider the fact that Jasper might not even want me here?

_You're so stupid Bella._

Though I've barely been in the church for two minutes, I find myself moving back towards the doors to leave. But as I take a step backwards, a look of confusion crosses his face. He places his hands out in a stop signal, staring at me again with those cloudy blue unreadable eyes, but I don't know what he wants.

I gaze down at the floor, feeling my cheeks turning pink and when I peek up, I realize that he doesn't look angry…he looks surprised. But good surprised? Elated and maybe even a little grateful? I nod towards a pew, asking permission to sit down and he rolls his eyes back at me with a playful smile.

Our silent conversation is interrupted when someone taps Jasper on the shoulder and he smiles at me once more before turning away. I use the moment to look around and find where Charlie is sitting, trying to avoid meeting anyone's judgmental eyes in the process.

Finally I see him, sitting towards the corner and grinning at me proudly. He's wearing his only suit; it's grey, teamed with a crisp white shirt and black tie. I suddenly realize how much I've missed him. He beckons me over and nods at the empty seat next to him. It's a gentle message that he was saving it for me all along. That he knew I would make the right decision, no matter what or who stood in my way.

"I'm glad you came Bells," he whispers into my ear once I sit down. His mustache tickles me and I cringe, subtly scrubbing the tingle from my cheek.

"Me too. You look smart dad," I reply leaning over to kiss his cheek. He smells like whiskey and shaving foam. Like home.

"I knew you would come." He whispers looking proud, but it just fuels my guilt even more. As If I need another reminder that I should have agreed to come the day I got the invitation.

"Yeah well…" I begin, but the delicate chimes of a harp sound through the church. Our conversation is lost when everybody rises to their feet. I grab Charlie's hand and he squeezes back gently in support.

The door slowly opens revealing Rosalie, the first bridesmaid, as she steps forward. Her long blonde hair is delicately twisted, leaving a few loose tendrils around her face.

The bridesmaid dresses are powder blue – corseted with delicate little petals across the skirt. They are stunning and I can't help but wonder if the color choice was a coincidence. It is the color Alice always insisted was perfect for my palette – the same color she ordered practically every formal dress I ever wore in; the color Edward _loved_ to see me in. And she'd insisted on it, even though I'd sent her countless swatches in varying colors.

Though that realization makes my knees tremble, I try to push the emotion back down and focus on Rosalie. She looks beautiful, radiating and every face in the room is focused solely on her. But as she looks around the church, I notice her eyes lack their normal sparkle. They are sharp, irritated and disappointed. And I can't help but feel that it's because of me.

The next bridesmaid I see is Alice's younger cousin Kate. She's grown older; her awkward gangly teenage body now slender and curvaceous. She smiles widely at the curious faces, before following Rosalie down the aisle with a swing in her walk.

Another women appears at the door and follows Kate down the aisle, she's brunette and petite, her hair in the same style as Rosalie's. I don't recognize her and I mentally try and think of the bridesmaid's list – but my mind is blank. I realize she must be a friend of Alice's, but I can't help but wonder when the extra dress was ordered. She too is smiling, her eyes focused at someone further down the aisle.

Out the corner of my eye, I see Charlie's face fall and he turns towards me looking apologetic and I smile back in confusion. I don't have time to question it though because the music slowly morphs into a beautiful rendition of the wedding march and I find myself stepping on my tippy toes waiting to catch the first glimpse of the bride.

Finally Alice comes through the door dressed in a flowing ivory dress which makes her porcelain skin glow. Her spiky black hair, has grown longer and it falls in soft curls over her shoulders. I can't believe this is Alice – my little Alice – all grown up and getting married. Charlie passes me a tissue and I dab at my cheeks.

Through the lines of people, I can see Carlisle walking her steadily up the aisle. He is beaming, proud and in awe of the beautiful women at his side. He looks down at her adoringly and I have to wipe another tear from my face.

As Carlisle keeps to a steady pace, he takes the time to nod politely at the guests who have all come to watch his only daughter get married. Though Charlie and me are standing a fair way from the aisle, Carlisle finds him, their eyes meeting across the room; sharing some connection.

As Carlisle's eyes roam, they fall onto me. His smiling face morphing into a mask of surprise. From his expression, I can't work out if it's a good surprise or not, but slowly his mouth pulls into that familiar Cullen crooked grin. _Oh thank goodness._ He winks over in my direction, before bending to whisper softly in Alice's ear.

Though I don't really expect him to interrupt Alice's monumental moment by telling her I'm here, Carlisle must feel it is important because Alice's eyes suddenly snap up to where I'm standing and it's then that I truly realize that I've made the right decision. Tears shine in her eyes and I'm a blubbering mess. Why I ever thought I could miss this day, I'll never know.

I blow her a kiss, before nodding my head to get her to keep walking her cute behind down the aisle because Jasper must be a nervous wreck wondering what the hold up is. She laughs and then gracefully resumes the walk and for once, I know I've done something right.

The ceremony is perfect, short and sweet and Emmett even refrains from speaking up to object to Alice and Jasper being wed. I'm sure it was a challenge.

As the harp begins to play again, we rise once more to watch Alice and Jasper take their first steps as a married couple. She is literally glowing and any trace of nerves has evaporated from Jaspers face. He is shining down at her with such love and affection, I feel envious of them. I want what they have.

One by one each bridesmaid comes into the middle of the alter linking hands with one of the groomsmen; Rosalie and Emmett, Kate and Riley and then I see _him._ Edward. He steps forward and takes the brunette bridesmaid's hand, pulling her towards him gently. I watch in surprise as he wraps his arm around her and leans down to plant a kiss at the corner of her mouth.

Though I know I have no right to feel jealous, I cant help it. Standing here, seeing Edward looking adoringly down at her makes me feel suddenly sick. I hate it. Every emotion I've spent four years bolted down and hidden somewhere deep inside of me, comes to the surface and I want it all.

I want him.

This is why I didn't want to come back. I'm completely back under his spell and I hate it. I hate how much power he holds over me.

I can see Charlie watching me carefully out of my peripheral vision but I can only focus on the man walking further up the aisle towards us, hand in hand with the brunette _bitchmaid._ I try to remind myself that Alice hasn't told me anything about her, so they're probably not serious – but I'm still green eyed with envy.

He's smiling, the same crooked smile as Carlisle and my heart stutters, even though it's not aimed at me. My memories haven't done him any justice.

Though I don't even know if its possible, he seems taller, more muscular with broader shoulders and I eye his fitted black suit hungrily. It's tailored to his defined, powerful and mouthwatering body and I realize just how much he has changed.

But as he gets closer, that familiar electric buzz still tingles through my fingers and I wonder if he feels it too. If he feels me. I stand taller, hoping his eyes will sweep over towards me but they don't.

Because all he see's is her.

Slowly he releases her waist and entangles his fingers with hers, pulling her hand up towards his mouth and placing a delicate kiss on her finger. I cock my head to the side, confused by the action – but then I see it.

The sparking ring, which adorns said finger, shining away obnoxiously like a beacon. I gasp in shock. I can't believe it. _Maybe they're just friends, _I try and tell myself.

Really, really good friends?

I stare at his hand too, just praying that I don't see a ring there – but I can't ignore what's right in-font of my face.

Suddenly his eyes flash up and he spots me staring unabashedly back at him. He regards me coldly, his eyes narrowing in my direction - a look of disgust crossing his features. My cheeks flush, my stomach drops and I painfully realize that there is nothing about this man that is still the same.

After one more seething look, he turns back to the women at his side – bending down to whisper something in her ear, which makes her practically melt.

She's the centre of his universe now.

I stifle a sob, which I try and blame on the large glass of wine I had back at the house, but I know it's got nothing to do with it. It's him. I knew seeing him for the first time would be difficult, but I didn't imagine him to act so malevolent.

Though it hurts, I plaster a smile on my face and hope that anyone looking will think I'm crying tears of joy and happiness, after watching my best friend get married.

But I can feel Charlie's eyes on me again like a vulture, scrutinizing my every move and I know he isn't buying it one bit. He knows how much I'm hurting, but he didn't even think to warn me?

When did this happen? How did this happen? And _who _is she?

I drop my head to wipe away my tears, as Charlie's gentle hands encircle my waist and turn me away from Edward and his…wife?

"I'm so sorry Bells," he whispers in my ear, cradling my face to his chest. "I should have told you – but it's new, I barely found out myself a few days ago. I'm so _so _sorry sweetheart."

Apparently elopement _has _come back into fashion.

* * *

[ - - - - ]

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A/N

Love, hate, confused or bored? All thoughts are welcomed!

P.S - I've got a lot of love for Adele, so all you fellow Adele lovers - expect to see a LOT of familiar songs.

A

**x**


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